


Lucifers to Light

by gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Backstory, Comfort Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Oral Sex, Suit Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:57:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6832357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/gaslightgallows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bert intercepts Jack at the engagement party in "Murder in the Dark" before Phryne does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meldanya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meldanya/gifts).



> Never let it be said that I don't know get people what they want for their birthdays... ;) Happy birthday, meldanya! ♥

_Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag,_  
_And smile, smile, smile,_  
_While you've a lucifer to light your fag,_  
_Smile, boys, that's the style._  
_What's the use of worrying?_  
_It never was worth while, so_  
_Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag,  
_ _And smile, smile, smile..._

 

The party was kickin’ up nicely, in Bert’s estimation, and the extra cases of French champagne that Guy Stanley had ordered weren’t going to waste. Bert didn’t think much of Mr. Guy (he didn’t think over-much of the old lady either, but at least old birds like her had the excuse of being stuck in their ways, and anyhow it was easy to see that Mrs. Stanley and Miss Fisher were two peas in a pod, just fifty years apart, an’ apart from which, Bert wasn’t about to stand for suggestive winks and attempts at back-corner gropes from rich boy who’d gotten no closer to the Front than the staff offices) but he was forced to admit, Guy’s taste in grog was good.

He was heading back from the kitchen to the over-heated ballroom with a bottle of champagne in each hand, when he saw a bare-headed Jack Robinson standing in the grand foyer, looking underdressed in his blue wool suit and tie and very out of place among all the fancy costumes, and very, very lost.

In that same moment, out of the corner of his eye, Bert saw Miss Fisher, decked to the nines in not very much. He didn’t know the specifics of whatever was going on between his boss and the inspector (though he was pretty sure she knew the particulars of what was going on between _himself_ and the inspector, and had been for a few hot hurried months), but he knew in his guy just by looking at Robinson that whatever Miss Fisher had planned, Robinson was _not_ up for it.

 _Sorry, Miss,_ Bert thought. _I know you’re havin’ a rough time right now, but this fella’s got to have some breathin’ room._

He threaded his way through the crush – the tux did wonders for that – shifted the bottles into one hand, and with the other, grabbed Robinson by the arm. “C’mon, let’s find you someplace quiet.”

Jack made no protest, and nobody paid them any mind as Bert led him away from the party and through the tight drab corridors of the servants’ quarters. The guests were too busy enjoying themselves to take notice and the skeleton crew of staff were too busy actually working (for which they were getting substantial extra wages that Mrs. Stanley thought were ruinously high but that Bert considered merely fair). Finally Bert reached the small bedroom that he and Cec had been allotted for changing and for storing their clothes. “Here. This’ll give you a chance t’ catch your breath.”

Jack blinked once or twice at his escorts and then at his surroundings. “I think Miss Fisher’s expecting me…”

“She’s busy with her hostessin’,” Bert said, setting down the champagne bottles on the bureau and taking the opportunity to undo his black bow tie and peel off the suit’s stiff high collar. “An’ Cec is keepin’ an eye on Jane.”

“And what are you doing?” Jack asked, with a bit of a smile.

Bert spread his arms and flashed a debonair grin. “I’m here t’ class up the joint, of course.”

“I don’t doubt it. You clean up well, Albert.”

Those words sent an uncomfortable thrill dancing over Bert’s skin. “It doesn’t fit bad, for a monkey suit. So,” he asked, reaching for a bottle and beginning to peel the foil from the neck, “what’s eatin’ you?”

“Nothing. I had some… personal business that I had to take care of before I could get here…” Jack dropped his overcoat onto a chair and dropped his face into his hands, only for a second. He took a deep breath and straightened up, and suddenly looked old and very tired. “My wife divorced me today, Albert.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This calls back (forward?) to [this _You Asked For It_ drabble](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4799084/chapters/14884318).

Bert felt his stomach heave up and then flop over heavily. “Hell, Robinson. I didn’t realize things had... hell.”

“I’d known it was coming. She moved out three years ago. That’s what it takes, you know. Three years.”

“Yeah, I know.” Bert concentrated on twisting off the wire cage that held the bottle’s cork. “I’ve waiting my three years three times over, an’ then some. My wife ran off while I was in Egypt.”

Something in Jack’s posture altered. In an instant, he put aside his own sorrows, ready to focus on those of his friend. “I didn’t know you’d been married, Albert. I’m sorry.”

The change in his bearing did not go unnoticed “‘S okay,” Bert shrugged, knowing he needed to steer the conversation back to Jack. “It ain’t like I talk about it.” _At least you didn’t have any kids t’ worry about. At least you got t’ say goodbye..._ Bert set the gold wire aside and worked his thumbs between the edge of the rounded cork and the lip of the glass bottle. “You wanna talk about it?”

Jack huffed softly. “Not really. What I want is to go home, get out of this suit, half-drown myself in the tub and then get magnificently drunk. But I have a job to do.”

“I told you, Robinson. Miss Fisher’s holdin’ ‘er own. The job can wait.” The pop of the cork bursting from the bottle startled them both. Bert grinned and held out the bottle. “Well, I can help with one of those things.” 

“What, champagne straight from the bottle?”

“You see crystal goblets anywhere in here?”

Jack rolled his eyes and took the bottle. Bert grinned and got to work opening the second bottle while Jack knocked back about a pint of champagne in one go. “Could, uh... could help with another of those things, you know. If you want.”

“Half-drowning me in a bathtub?”

“Gettin’ you outta that suit.”

Jack looked at him for what felt like an eternity, his eyes dark and sad and searching. “Albert,” he sighed.

“Hold up, mate,” said Bert huskily. “I know you usually take the lead in these things, and you ain’t up for it right now. I ain’t asking for anything, I’m _offerin’_. You’ve had a rough day, and t’ my way of thinking, you need someone else t’ take the lead for a bit.” He looked down a the bottle in his hand and then clumsily pushed the cork out with his thumbs. The champagne foamed up from the narrow neck. Bert wiped it off, wiped his hand on his black trousers, and then took a swig from the bottle.

“No one will ever mistake you for a toff, Albert,” Jack said, with a hint of his usual dry humor. 

“No reason why they should.” Bert licked his lips and took another deep drink. “‘Sides, never had any crystal goblets in the trenches, either.”

“That’s a fact...” With a sigh, Jack set down his drink and looked around. “I should go. Miss Fisher...”

“You really think you’re up for whatever Miss Fisher needs you here for?” Bert asked, a little more bluntly than he’d intended. “Because you don’t look it, Robinson.”

He watched the grin fade from Jack’s face. “And how do I look, Albert?” he asked quietly. 

Bert chewed briefly on the inside of his cheek. “Like you bloody need to be held, mate.”


	3. Chapter 3

Every last shred of pretense fell away, and Jack could only look at Bert with undisguised longing, his dark blue eyes large and liquid.

Bert crossed the room and carefully removed the champagne bottle from Jack’s grasp. Gently, he slipped his hands under Jack’s suit jacket and waistcoat, hooked his fingers into Jack’s braces, and drew him close. “Whatever you want, mate, or don’t want,” Bert promised, reaching up and curling a hand behind Jack’s head. “Whatever you need. Party’s gonna be goin’ on for a while. We got time.”

Jack laughed a bit at that. “Someone’s going to come looking for us, eventually.” 

“Quit worryin’ about ‘eventually’,” Bert advised, kissing him, and lightly stroking the soft cropped hair at the nape of Jack’s neck. “Can’t spend your _whole_ life frettin’ about what’s around the next corner.”

“I’m not…” Jack sighed as Bert’s fingers found the sensitive spot at the top of his spine. “Well. Maybe not _all_ the time.”

“That’s a good detective-inspector,” Bert teased. Jack rolled his eyes but made no protest as Bert tugged him over to one of the beds and began to unbutton him. “If you change your mind about this, you tell me. Got it?”

“I don’t want you to stop, Albert,” Jack murmured, pulling Bert into his lap. It was a familiar position; Bert was only an inch shorter than Jack but Jack was far more muscular, and he loved having Bert’s weight anchoring him down. Bert could feel Jack’s erection growing and pressing up against his arse. “Just… Damn it, Albert, just touch me. I don’t care how.”

There were tears in his voice. Bert kissed him before they could reach his eyes. “Lie back, mate.”

Bert had never much fancied the notion of ‘sweet’ sex with Jack Robinson. It wasn’t what he wanted from the cop and it had never seemed like what Robinson wanted, either. They came together in secret once in a while for hard, sweaty fucks that left Bert unable to drive his own cab for a week, and it was precisely all he thought he wanted from a capitalist lackey like Robinson. But he’d surprised himself by liking not only the rough sex, but the rough tenderness that Robinson displayed whenever they fooled around together. It took a while before he realized that Robinson was good to him because he _liked_ Bert.

The least Bert could do was repay the favour in kind.

So he was tender with Jack as he laid him back and stripped off the blue suit and everything that was underneath. Layer by layer, he revealed Jack Robinson, exposing his leanly muscled limbs and his clear olive skin. Bert knew every inch of that body with his eyes closed, but he rarely got to see it like this. “You sure this is good?” he asked, stretching out next to Jack and laying his hand lightly on Jack’s naked thigh. “You almost never get all your clothes off.”

“No… that’s more your pleasure.”

“I like having your hands on all of me… you want a blanket or somethin’?”

Jack turned into Bert’s embrace and drew his head down. “I don’t want to hide from you, Albert,” he whispered into Bert’s hair. “Not tonight.”

“Right… no worries, mate,” Bert replied, kissing Jack’s cheek and then moving to his throat. He worked an arm around Jack’s shoulders, holding him, and let his free hand wander over Jack’s chest and stomach, taking his time. “Anything in particular you want?”

Jack chuckled breathlessly. “Use your imagination.”


	4. Chapter 4

Bert took Jack in hand lightly, not wanting to go too hard and heavy at first, knowing his mate needed comfort far more than he needed satisfaction. Jack let out a helpless little moan when Bert’s fingers closed around his cock. “This good?” Bert asked. 

“Yes, yes… but you’re still dressed.”

“I’ll get me trousers off eventually, mate, don’t you worry.” Bert chuckled and stretched up to press a kiss into Jack’s hair, still pumping him delicately. “‘Sides, I owe you for all those times you buggered me t’ hell an’ back without even loosening your tie.”

Jack, who had slid down the sheets when Bert moved up, grinned hotly against Bert’s throat, and then gulped. “Oh… do that again…” Bert’s thumb swiped over the head of Jack’s cock again, pressing against the slit and spreading the pre-cum around the slick skin. “Fuck… oh fuck… mmm…”

“Like that?”

“Just like that.”

Bert nuzzled Jack’s brown hair, breathing in the scent of his pomade and cologne, and tried not to think too hard about why Jack Robinson was naked in his arms. Not the fucking; they’d done that enough times now to be comfortable with each other, plainly, and Bert had never been ashamed of his desires, just needfully cautious with them. He was prepared for it, too. He and Cec didn’t fool around anymore, not since Cec’s engagement, but Bert could dream… more practically, there was a gardener on Mrs. Stanley’s staff who was usually more than happy to give Bert the time of day.

It wasn’t practical concerns that plagued Bert, and kept trying to intrude on his thoughts, as he gradually and tenderly fisted Jack towards a climax. It was only memories, of when Susan had taken the kids and left Bert with nothing but a letter, of coming home and finding the flat let and the neighbors all changed, and having no idea where to look, and crumbling. Thommo and Ronnie had been there for him, and Cec, and at least he still mostly had Cec, but Robinson, he didn’t have anybody, as far as Bert knew.

Except Miss Fisher. And she needed someone more than she could handle being needed herself, just now. 

“Albert,” Jack groaned, twisting and canting his hips beneath Bert’s hand. “Damn it…”

“You want more?” Bert nudged Jack’s head to make him look up. “You want my mouth?”

Already panting, Jack bit desperately at his lower lip and nodded. Bert kissed his bitten, reddened lips and shifted down. He licked the swollen cockhead clean and then carefully closed his mouth around the thick shaft. Blowing a cock this big was always an exercise in not gagging, but Bert managed, and even when Robinson wasn’t feeling blue, he liked a slow blow.

Gradually, letting his throat adjust to the width and weight, Bert swallowed Jack down. Jack thudded his head on Bert’s pillow and let out a sharp huff, as though trying to catch his breath. He wouldn’t last long, in Bert’s opinion. He slid one hand under Jack’s thigh and closed the other around Jack’s balls, squeezing gently. 

“Albert…” Jack’s hand came down and stroked Bert’s hair. “God, that’s good…” 

A rush of pride surged through Bert, and with it, a moment of self-reflection. He never once thought he’d find himself with this man. 

Thommo and Ronnie, they’d never fancied men, and Cec didn’t fancy _men_ so much as he fancied _Bert_ – he wasn’t a bloke who went looking for a good lay. But they’d all understood. They’d all heard Bert gush about his kids, and admit that he and Susan weren’t best suited to each other but he was determined to do right by her, and seen him break when they were gone. 

Well, now Thommo and Ronnie were gone, and Cec had his girl, and Bert… funny, really, how Robinson had entered his life in a big way just when Cec was starting to drift a little out of it.

He felt Jack’s hand grip his hair desperately, and Bert pulled back just enough, so that Jack’s cum hit Bert’s tongue rather than the back of his throat. “Christ, Albert!” Jack choked, trying to be quiet and not to thrust . “Oh shit… oh _god_ …”

Bert waited until the spasms stopped, then slowly drew back. He cupped his hand around Jack’s spent genitals to protect them from the sudden change in temperature from hot mouth to cooler air, and then hitched his body back up the bed. “That’s you, mate,” he murmured, kissing Jack thoroughly so that Jack could taste himself on Bert’s tongue. “I’ve got you.”


	5. Chapter 5

For a few minutes, Bert simply held Jack, letting him catch his breath, listening to the little whimpers and hums of contentment bubbling up from Jack’s chest. Bert cuddled his head under Jack’s chin, feeling obscenely comfortable and sleepy. It wouldn’t do to fall asleep here; they both had to rejoin the party at some point, and if they didn’t, well, Bert didn’t fancy the idea of Cec coming to look for him at the end of the night and finding him like this. They weren’t what they had been, to each other, but... well, it just wasn’t the sort of thing he wanted Cec to see. 

He felt Jack’s lips in his hair and looked up. “Feelin’ a little better, mate?”

“Mmm... a bit. Could use a drink.” 

Bert reached over Jack’s chest to grab the champagne from the bureau. He took a swig for himself and then handed the bottle to Jack, who drank several large gulps in silence. 

Jack’s eyes on Bert were soft. He set the bottle on the floor and then tugged at Bert’s jacket collar. “You promised, Albert.”

“You really that eager to get me down t’ my skin?”

“You have no idea.” Jack slid his hands underneath Bert’s lapels. “I want to feel you, Albert. I _need_ to feel you.”

“All right, mate, all right...” 

Jack fisted Bert’s shirt under the jacket and pulled him close to kiss him with an urgency that bordered on anguish. “I want you inside me.”

Bert was stunned. Jack wasn’t the sort of chap who liked being on the receiving end of things, and Bert could count on one hand the number of times Jack had asked him to... “Okay,” he murmured, letting Jack shuck him out of his jacket. “Whatever you need, mate. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

Jack’s husky laugh left his chest all in a rush, as though he’d been punched in the solar plexus. “I’m glad someone isn’t.”

Bert draped his jacket and waistcoat over the foot of the bed and took Jack back into his arms. “You ain’t alone,” he said, a little more forcefully than he’d intended. “You can bet on that.”

“Never was much of a betting man,” Jack snorted.

“Yeah, well, sometimes you’ve gotta take a chance... have a little flutter.” Bert kicked off his shoes and kissed Jack’s cheek. “You’ve got Miss Fisher.” He pulled off his socks and flung them somewhere, then dipped his head and kissed the hollow of Jack’s throat. “You’ve got that puppy of a constable who looks up to you.” He pushed Jack gently against the pillows, then rose up on his knees. Quickly, he threw off his braces and unbuttoned his shirt cuffs, then pulled the whole off over his head, shirt and singlet together. He bent over Jack, pressing their chests together and savouring the warmth, and kissed Jack’s lips. “An’ you’ve got me.”

_And I’ve got you. God ‘elp me, you’ve got me and I’ve got you._

Bert rose back up and unfastened his trousers. Jack reached out and helped slide the black broadcloth over his hips, then curved his hand into Bert’s underpants and palmed his erection. “Nngh, easy, mate,” Bert warned him, groaning. But he eased his clothes the rest of the way off while Jack stroked him slowly, with a solemn concentration that touched Bert very much. He leaned forward and gave Jack a soft kiss, then got up and went to the bureau to fetch the Vaseline. 

He thought back to the first time he’d fooled around with another man – he’d been fifteen, Dennis seventeen, and they’d had to sneak into his mother’s kitchen to filch her cooking oil so that they could fuck. He and Dennis had managed not to get caught that time, but the cooking oil had made a hell of a mess that Bert had been hard-pressed to explain when his mother went to wash his bedsheets...

“Penny for your thoughts, Albert?”

Bert plastered on a cheeky grin. “Jus’ thinkin’ about some of the stuff we used in the trenches, to slick ourselves up.”

Jack grimaced. “God, _don’t_ remind me.”

Returning to the bed, Bert allowed himself the pleasure of a long, warm kiss with his lover. It was at the root of his tongue to ask who Jack’s mates had been in the trenches, if any of them had come home, if there were any of them in Melbourne... but he knew the answer already.

He reached for the pot of Vaseline and worked the cap off with one hand; the other was busy cupping Jack’s cheek. He scooped out a fingerful and reached down between Jack’s legs, behind his balls. “Oh,” Jack sighed, as Bert pressed one slick finger into his hole. “Just like that, Albert...”

Bert smiled against Jack’s mouth. “I ain’t even done anything important yet.”

“You feel good,” Jack said simply, one arm tight around Bert’s back. Bert added a second finger, stretching Jack slowly, and covered Jack’s mouth to swallow his moan. “Fuck, it’s been a long time since... fuck,” Jack whispered. 

“Think you’re ready?” Bert asked, in between nipping gently at Jack’s tongue while he pumped his fingers steadily. 

“God, yes.”

Jack held Bert’s gaze with his own, hungry and haunted, while Bert shifted down. Then Jack tensed, and his breath came in desperate, shuddering gasps as Bert pushed his cock inside him, stroke by stroke, a little deeper each time. “God... damn...” Jack gasped, and reached for Bert.

There was nothing Bert could say. His heart was too full, remembering Susan, remembering Cec and how he had been there when Bert needed him, and his body was on fire with the strain of holding back and simply emptying himself inside Jack with a few hard thrusts. That wasn’t what he wanted... and it wasn’t what Jack needed. 

“This good, mate?” asked Bert hoarsely, stretching out over Jack and dropping kisses to his face and throat. “Feel good?”

Jack nodded, clinging to Bert and trying to roll his hips, to take Bert’s cock deeper. 

Bert wrapped his arms around Jack and fucked him with care, setting a slow, steady rhythm that would let them both enjoy themselves for as long as possible, and he wanted Jack to enjoy this. “Touch yourself, mate,” Bert urged. “I want... let’s make this extra good for you.”

But Jack shook his head and locked his arms even tighter around Bert’s back. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Bert let out a sob. “Oh, Christ, mate, I ain’t goin’ anywhere, not when I – you – oh God yes, _ah!_ ” He pressed his mouth to Jack’s throat and buried his strangled cry there, feeling Jack muffling a sharp gasp into his blond hair as Bert’s orgasm flooded through them both. “Oh God, mate... God... I’ve got you.” He took a deep, shaking breath and kissed Jack’s throat, pulling himself together as quickly as possible. “I’ve got you.”

Jack’s silent tears were in his hair, and as the afterglow wore off and the emotional avalanche hit fully, Jack began to shake. Bert rolled to one side and pulled Jack against him. “That’s it, mate,” he murmured as Jack cried, “jus’ let it out...” The pillows were wet with Jack’s tears by the time he had exhausted himself, but he never made a sound. 

They rested for a little while, then cleaned up and dressed together in deep, understanding silence, and drank the rest of the champagne.

Jack straightened Bert’s bow tie before they left the room to rejoin the party. “Thank you, Albert,” he said quietly. “I owe you.”

Bert’s smile was lopsided. “Nah. I was just passin’ on a bit of understanding between friends.” He gave Jack’s necktie a tug. “Chin up, Robinson. Give ‘em a smile.”


End file.
